


Everything

by coloured



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band), fluff - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Wedding Fluff, greg doesn't exist, larry stylinson - Freeform, niall being dumb, no gryles don't worry, poor theo, proposal fluff, side Ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloured/pseuds/coloured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is freaking out about proposing to Harry and basically Zayn gives him Gandhi wisdom to speak from his heart. Lots of fluff but also sarcasm from Louis and Harry rambles a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends I'm Ang and this is my first shot at fluff. I hope you like it. No Gryles this time I promise 
> 
> Find me on twitter @royalestyles

I couldn't begin to form my emotions into words. But I had everything else. I had the gold encrusted diamond ring, that had been burning a small hole in my left pocket since early October.  
I had the reservation at his favorite restaurant, which was actually the ridiculously expensive/mildly Indie one I despised, but I was proposing to him. Everything had to be to complete perfection.  
I had the tux on that I had ironed once, the one that Zayn had ironed twice before he almost lit his hand on fire by touching the black fabric.  
My leather shoes were shined so I could see my own damn reflection, something Liam was determined to do.  
The cologne that Niall had nearly doused my clothes in, before I saw him committing the possibly plan ruining sin he was about to make, smelled faintly of maple and some oceanic shit. Everything besides my damned brain was ready.  
Harry was pretty cheesy. He wouldn't notice or care if I quoted some lyrics from that bloody annoying song you hear at every wedding by Edwin McCain.  
But I was different. I needed to give him the perfect speech. I needed to give him pink and red roses, to match the color of his lips. I needed to give him everything I had, because he was everything I thought about. But you can't define everything. You can't put everything into words. The fact that there is 'everything' is unexplainable. Everything is unexplainable, and so is our love. The way he flicks his knotted curls out of his eyes whenever he gets agitated or confused mesmerizes me and it makes absolutely no sense.  
"Everything he does is magic," I muttered to myself, not noticing Niall beside me.  
"And he's cast a spell on you!" he chimed in, giving me a hopeful look.  
"Niall, shut the fuck up," I groaned. Leave it to Niall to quote some shitty song from the 80's to put in my proposal.  
"Lou, maybe you should just wing it. Say what you feel at that exact moment when you're holding the ring to his finger. Just speak directly from your heart, no matter how much mindless sap pours out," Zayn says, putting a hand on my shoulder.  
I notice Liam in the corner, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Sap.  
"You're right," I sigh, meeting eyes with Zayn. Zayn is always right.  
"And now you're off?" Liam adds in, his voice rising and sounding like he was asking a question.  
I look at my three best mates, my confidants, and everything feels surreal. 5 years ago, I was just confessing my feelings for Harry to them, wishing my sexuality was different, and now, I'm looking at them, about to propose to the love of my life. Who would have guessed?

I pick up Harry at Gemma's recently opened coffeehouse, my heart threatening to pound right through my collared shirt and jacket.  
"Hey Lou," he blushes furiously when I smile fondly back at him, something that has happened since the day he nearly peed onto me in the urinal.  
"Hey babe," I reply, kissing him lightly. I feel the warmth of his cheek rest on his shoulder, and dammit, almost pull over the car in the middle of the intersection and propose in my Porsche. Which, by the way, smells faintly of floral detergent, mint and chicken grease (Shoutout to Liam).  
We reach the dimly lit restaurant on the far East of London within minutes, and I hurry to open Harry's passenger side.  
He shoots me a questioning grin but excepts nonetheless.  
"Thank you Sir," he jokes in a dumb, mildly-offensive American accent. I pretend to laugh, like always, because he'll pout for the rest of night unless I do. As much as I love his childish charm, I'd rather not be embarrassed in front of the waiting staff. But maybe embarrassment is part of the deal when you want to marry Harry Styles.  
We walk in, hand in hand, undisturbed by a dirty glance from some tourist. If I wasn't so concentrated on Harry's hair, which he had actually done up tonight, I probably would've flipped the prick off.  
Harry's friend, Penelope, who also happens to be the hostess, seats us at a secluded table in the back corner of the place. A candlelit chandelier hangs overhead, and with my luck, it'll probably fall right onto me and burn me to my death before I can even order myself a Scotch.  
We sit and Harry wastes no time, ordering a glass of Pinot Noir and a grilled tomato panini with some disgusting sounding pesto garlic sauce. I order a bottle of the Pinot Noir, only because I don't want to hear Harry's bitching about our lack of a wine collection back at home, and some sirloin steak dish the waitress recommends.  
"So today, Gemma met this bloke who she swore was the reincarnation of John Lennon. Said he sounded like him and looked like him, to be perfectly honest I was quite jealous," Harry rambled, tapping his index finger on his silverware.  
"I would only be jealous if the lot of the Beatles rose from their graves and came knocking on her door," I countered, giving him a half smile and a jab at his ankle.  
"Footsie, Lou? Really?" his cheeks reddened as he poked my knee with his leather boot.  
"Got a problem, Styles?" I laughed wholeheartedly, thinking to myself, wishing to myself, I could've said Tomlinson instead.  
The waitress chose then to deliver our meals and drinks, and our match came to a close.  
I watched Harry take a small sip of his wine, knowing he was testing to see if it was too cold. I've seen him have a few spit takes if it wasn't to his liking.  
It was then I knew I couldn't wait any longer. Now or never, Louis.  
I slowly walked to his side of the table, taking a deep breath as I took his hands in mine and got on one knee.  
"Harry Edward Styles, I am in love with you," I began, ignoring the early silence from around the restaurant.  
"I was going to stay up all night and write you a damn expository essay on the reasons I'm in love with you, but then I realized that I couldn't write everything into words. I love everything about you. Everything is unexplainable. Everything is always expanding. Everything never stops. I can't explain everything, but what I know is that I am in love with everything about you. I am in love with your sloppy cursive that you sign every birthday, get well soon, sorry-for-your-loss card with. I am in love with your knotty morning curls that you always complain about at breakfast while you eat that awful organic oatmeal. I am in love with your rosy cheeks when I greet you, when you've just had your daily tea. I am so in love with your deep breaths right before you fall asleep, no matter how loud they get. I am in love with you when I swear to God above that I hate every bone in your body, I am in love with you when you belt out classic rock songs in the shower. I am in love with you. No matter how many more obstacles we have to overcome, no matter how much more I will or have had to give up, no matter how many more coffees you spill down the stairs, I will always be in love with you," my eyes are shining with tears as I take an exaggerated breath and focus on the glassy green orbs in front of me.  
"I will always be in love with everything about you. You. You, Harry, you are the love of my life. You are my turning page, my next chapter, my end of the story. Please, Harry, please-" I wipe tears from my hot cheeks, "give me the privilege of being your forever. Will you- will you, Harry Edward Styles, marry me?" I choke out my words as I struggle to open the black box, the ring, the future, to him.  
"Yes, Louis. Yes- yes. The answer is always yes. I love you, Lou. I will marry you. Of- of course. I love you so much," he breathes as I slide the ring onto his slender finger.  
"Everything, Harry."  
"Everything, Louis."


End file.
